Herein there's prose and there're cons, and insights that excite, but most importantly ... there's JACK. In an effort to clear my head, I unload the random happenings in my mind into sometimes thought-provoking, but usually jovial and comical works, rated R. Welcome to the data dump from the mind of a modern-day, gay male ... who is far from ordinary.

JACK's Followers

Saturday, November 28, 2009

In 2002, I did the Black Friday thing. I started at 5am and learned at how ridiculous people could get waiting outside for HOURS before then. I didn't get everything I was looking for that year, but I did get a few things and it was fun.

Except for Toys R Us. I will never, EVER go to that store on Black Friday or during the holidays at all. There was yelling and kicking and screaming and parents fighting over toys. The same toys they'd yell at their children for fighting over at some point. It was mayhem and just a whole lotta nonsense - and I'm not risking my life over a five dollar Barbie.

This year, I was out there as a good deed. My roommate is dating someone new who has issues that my roommate is using his ex's laptop still. He borrowed it after his desktop crashed and has been using it ever since. So, my roommate wants a new laptop - to be honest, I think he just needed something to push him to spend the money. He's wanted his own damn laptop since forever.

Anyway, I was there for a laptop. The roommate is going to reimburse me and I actually had nothing going on that would prevent me from getting it ... and he was going to be out of town at his parents without a car. So, fine - I went.

TO WALMART!

Oh dear God. It was something else. And why did I get stuck around these chatty ass women who just wanted to talk and tell stories about where they'd been already (Toys R Us opened at mid-fucking-night!) and how tired they were and what they ate and all this nonsense I just didn't give a fuck about. Whatever, I did it. There were some things at Walmart that I wanted to get, including a $29 bicycle for my son. So, I bore the misery from 3am to 6am when I finally got out of there.

Have you ever seen that email forward about people that shop at Walmart? THey're usually dressed in their pajamas or some ghetto/white trash outfit that makes no sense - have you seen it? Well, I learned that those really aren't staged. They're really not. LAWD. HAVE MERCY. Some of these people really did look like their parents were spawned from the same womb. I swear they did.

And THEN - there was THIS nigga:

Really? You're going to climb your big, Black ass into a shopping cart to sit? You can't stand for two hours and not make a fool of yourself in front of all these White people? Really? THAT shit was crazy. You should've seen him push the gate all the way up and around, crouch underneath it and wedge himself into that cart. And eventually, he scooted all the way back into the cart, put his elbows on the sides of the cart and let his feet just dangle in midair ... I swear, some people make no goddam fucking sense.

I just HAD to put him on blast. JACK is never without his camera, people.

Monday, November 23, 2009

Today - my lawd Jesus, today. I wasted 4.5 hours of my life on a conference call. And when I was done, EVERYTHING was bothering me. I was just one cranky bitch. You know those moments when you feel like the next mother fucker that so much as SPEAKS to you will go down in a wrath not seen since the Israelites were worshiping golden calves while Moses was gone for 40 days. (If you believe in such things). Well, it was one of those days.

It's also one of those days where I can say mother fucker, cranky bitch AND Moses all in the same paragraph. Just accept it - I'm not in the mood.

It didn't help that my sister in law came by to pick up the money her mother said I was going to give her. I told her that I came home with her mother's check and haven't gone to cash it yet because of this conference call - you know, the one that was so painful it blurred my vision - and that I was STILL on the conference call.

Why is it that during this conference call I hear this bitch's footsteps in the hallway, listening to see if I was still on the conference call? When the fuck did I become your bitch? Just because you goddamn son is out of diapers doesn't mean I have to drop everything and run around town like I ain't got no goddamn sense ... I done TOLE this bitch at least three times before that if you wait until the last minute, it's only because you think you're more likely to get the handout if there's an emergency. And I'm through being manipulated, ok? I'm over it. I know the game well ... so her tip toeing on my laminate flooring made me want to take up one of those planks and smack her with it.

Bitch, I'm busy.

So, after the conference call, I go to the bank and deposit the check and withdraw the $200 she needed. (Don't ask me what the fuck she wanted it for - I just know that her mom asked me to deposit her paycheck and suddenly I have more shit to do because I have her money) So, after I get the goddamn money I call this bitch only to have her say that she went over to her moms and had her withdraw the money out of her account so she was good.

GOOD?!?

"And who was gonna tell ME that you DIDN'T need me to go to the bank?"

"oh."

That's all she had to say. "Oh." Now I gotta take my ass BACK to the bank to deposit this cash ... and I'm on my way to pick up my kids and I gotta feed them and bathe them and homework and reading and bed times ... mother, fuck - got damn, bitch.

She started saying some other shit and I was just like, "you know what, bye."

So I'm all flustered and pissed off and cranky and i WISH someone would say something stupid to me ... and all that.

I get home to read an email from my daughter's teacher - it's their weekly newsletter. Guess what - she's saying no homework all week since it's a short week. Instead she had the kids write down what they were thankful for and she published it in the classroom newsletter.

At this point, I should tell you that my baby mama has been ill. I won't go into detail, but suffice it to say that it's serious - she had surgery last week and that adds to the number of things I've got to get done this week, which is why the whole bank thing was such a big deal. Like, seriously - the baby mama and I, three weeks ago, had the "If I die ..." conversation - I've been stressed. I know - it doesn't show one bit.

So, I'm scanning this newsletter to see what my daughter said - because, let's face it, who gives a fuck what the other kids said. And there's my baby's name, and she says:

I'm thankful for the doctors that are keeping my mommy safe.

omg - my eyes well up just typing it. How precious a lesson my daughter taught me just then ... I sit here with tears rolling down my face - tears that parents shed that their kids never know about. Tears we shed only when they're fast asleep, safe and secure.

You know what - it was just a conference call. It was 4.5 hours of my life - and I have my life. I wasn't the I in "If I die ..." My children are worried about their mommy and think about it enough to be thankful, even at 6 and 7, that there are doctors who specialize in taking care of their mommy. What's another trip to the bank?

I conditioned and detangled my daughter's hair tonight. I sat her under the hair dryer, gave her some books ... and even though it was way passed her bedtime, I sat there with my book on the couch while she read her book sitting underneath the hood. It was the first time she used it - and she felt like a big girl. And she was all smiles.

Nothing else really matters if a father can make his daughter smile.

She stopped reading and looked at me and asked, "Daddy?"

"Yes?"

"Can I have a hug?"

Nothing else really matters if a daughter can make her daddy smile, too.

Sunday, November 15, 2009

I met a guy online and we really seemed to hit it off. We exchanged numbers and had a phone conversation that was effortless by all measures. He had a very interesting story and I asked tons of follow up questions during a 2-hour conversation that didn't seem nearly that long at all. We agreed to meet for lunch the following day.

It was a fool proof plan, I thought. It was his day off and I am pretty flexible with my work schedule and can go out for lunch at any time. We texted in the morning and it seemed like it might be a little later than noon ... he manages a restaurant and had to go in to do a few things and we would meet after that.

Seemed fine.

Then he told me to just come by his restaurant. I wasn't so sure about that, but I did want to meet him in person and so I went. It was awkward to say the least and I'll spare all of the details about how I told him I was uncomfortable being there at his job and how everyone was trying to get his attention and asking him questions, and about how we agreed to just sit in the sitting area away fro everyone and just talk and how he then decided to give me a tour of the building and introduced me to all these damn people. (after I told him that this was his work and I didn't think we really should be hanging out there, especially on our first meeting)

I agreed to have lunch on Saturday with him. It meant that I had to wake up early and drive back to Chicago to meet him, but I thought it was worth it. I really did want to spend time getting to know him in neutral territory.

On Friday night I called him and he told me that we wouldn't be able to meet for lunch the following day because he made other plans after I left ... after we agreed on meeting for lunch on Saturday. He said that I should call him when I get back into town and he would see if he had time to meet with me, "no, I'll MAKE time to meet with you," he said.

Well, how about NO. How about I come back to Chicago whenever the hell I feel like it and NOT call you to tell your dumb ass that I'm in town. At this point, I review the 2 hour conversation we had and it really WAS all about him - he did most of the talking and I found out a LOT about his life and he found out little to none about mine. Moreover, he wanted me to see HIS place of employment, give me a tour of the building HE works in ... and wanted me to let him know when I was around and he's fit me into HIS schedule.

All in all, I found him totally wrapped up in HIM - and while I really like a man who has his shit together and has a career and all that ... I'm going to need him to come with enough security to not have to flaunt it. I didn't ooohhh and ahhhh about his restuarant or hotel ... Well, I travel a LOT for work and I've stayed at Ritz Carltons, resorts in Maui, Pointe Clear Alabama, blah blah blah. It get to the point where hotels are hotels with conference rooms and meeting rooms and banquet halls and sleeping rooms and it's all the fucking same. He really wasn't impressing me .. or fucking teaching me anything when he was trying to explain to me that there was an airwall in the restaurant that made a certain area a private function space.

... just like tons of private function areas I've been in for meetings ... from the like of St. Elmos in downtown Indianapolis to the Westin Mag mile. I GET IT!

I didn't call him when I came back into town - instead, I went out for my birthday this weekend and woke up with one hell of a hangover this afternoon.

I noticed him online today and I told him that it was too bad we didn't connect and that I hope he had a good weekend. He responded and said that he was sorry he was unable to make time in his schedule for me.

"LOL - you're silly. You DID have time - you just chose to spend it at a garage sale."

He's out his damn mind if he thinks he's got it worse than anyone else when it comes to scheduling in a date ... mfer, I live in two cities, travel all over the damn country and still manage to make sure the men I date don't feel like impositions.

Too bad he's too wrapped up in himself trying to impress people with himself ... he's a good looking, successful Black man who can hold a decent conversation (that is, of course, as long as it's about him)

Friday, November 6, 2009

I took this poll on FB about whether or not I support gay marriage. Of course, I answered that I do indeed support it. What you may not know is that I support it in theory, not in the "I'm about to go out and marry a bastard" sort of way. I suppose if it happens that I find a man I want to commit my life to, then I'd jump the broom again ... but, I'm a happily divorced man right now and I'm not in any particular hurry to even shack up with someone. Quite frankly, I like having things be exactly where I left them when I go to looking for them.

But what gets me is all the comment from the Christian right on the issue. How in the hell does one person's marriage impact another's? I'm at a loss. Preserving the sanctity of marriage is an issue that befuddles me when one considers the divorce rate. I'm part of the 50% of the population that got divorced, dammit - so don't tell me about the sanctity of marriage. That argument is hollow.

The title of this post references an old adage in Spanish - literally translated it means "block out sky with the hand." I've heard it used when people are trying to keep it real ... that is, acknowledging the obvious. But it's also a back handed slap to people who want to ignore really big omnipresent things as if they really don't exist. I'll give you an example.

I have an uncle. He's a ho. His sister-in-law came to live with him and his wife for economic reasons, or for whatever reason. I don't know the specifics. But what I do know is that his wife and his sister-in-law were both pregnant at the same time, while his sister-in-law was living in their house, and yes - you guessed it ... they're both his. Yet, no one talks about it or acknowledges it and my uncle, the youngest of 8, is still the "can't do no wrong" baby of the family.

Bitch, please - he's a ho. Now, the one thing that may make this story palatable is that the wife didn't kick out her sister or anything. They remained buddy, buddy. So, for all WE know the could maybe been having consensual menage-a-trois up in that bitch and it's really none of anyone's business (not that it's any of our business either way, but you know) ... but these sibling/cousins don't seem to have any real standing in the family at large. It's a shame. So, in referencing this situation, someone could be calling it out and start talking about it by saying they don't "tapa ceilo con la mano" and then start talking about my uncle being a fast ass.

So, I just called him out, fine. It's not even the issue here, although I could make this a VERY strong argument against the "holy matrimony" that the Christian right wants to make out of marriage. Let's get some things straight (tee hee, I said straight)

Marriage is not strictly a religious thing. When I married my now ex-wife we had to go downtown and get a MARRIAGE license from the state. The term "marriage" cannot possibly be reserved for the church.

I have Muslim friends who are married. Therefore, marriage cannot be inherently Christian because, well ... Allah done thrown a wrench into that whole thing right thurr

Don't Hindus believe in multiple gods? Yuh, they're married too.

But my main issue is the argument that this is a Christian nation based on Christian principles. Did anyone really research that and confirm the religious beliefs of our founding fathers? I mean, doe anyone know what the fuck a freemason is? an agnostic? I'm not doing your homework - just, if you're going to pursue this avenue, please OH PLEASE do some research.

And then there's that real humane treatment of native Americans. Nothing says Christian like raping, pillaging and forcing people from their land, taking it by force. It must have been that New Promised Land referenced during the 400 silent years no one knows shit about. or something.

Ahhh - and slavery too. Nothing says Christian like slavery, white hoods and hosing off crowds of people with fire engines and fire hydrants. And hanging people from trees! Christian as hell right thurr.

Frankly, I'm tired of hearing people talk about how Christian this country is - it's not. It's Christian-ISH, I'll give you that ... in the same way that my son was Red Power Ranger-ISH this halloween. He looked the part, so he WAS the part.

Dammit, people - just because you carry the Bible and can recite scripture ... that doesn't make you a Christian. Neither does going to church. Show me a man or woman who loves unconditionally, judges little to none, raises respectful children who also love unconditionally and judge little to none ... and I may begin to believe your religiosity isn't just a white, hooded cloak.

Spare me the skewed view of history and tell me, really - how does someone else's marriage impact yours? How does what I do in the bedroom impact what you do in the bedroom? How does who I plant flowers with in the garden impact your damn potted plants?

Show me freedom without ridiculous limits that are based on how you WANT our country's past to be. People should not marry goats - that's not a ridiculous limit. People should not marry people - that shit makes no sense.

Our country has a sullied past. Just fucking admit it and stop trying to force to be true a past that simply isn't. I can admit that I have a sullied past (my GAWD, I used to fuck with fish!) and that admission doesn't reduce me or minimize me. In fact, it empowers me and allows me to have more of an impact in general because people can actually believe what the fuck I say because I'm honest about what the fuck I've done.

When I say to my kids, "choose a mate wisely and don't rush into marriage," they can believe me because I've so been there and made the mistake.

When people say no to gay marriage because this is a Christian country, it just makes me want to remove that hand from their brow and announce, "stop blocking out the sky."

Sunday, November 1, 2009

JACK on Twitter

I was on twitter - and now I'm not. The nostalgia wore off in less than a month. It's just something else to do, another account to take care of, another password to remember. And SOME of you mother fuckers tweet like it's court ordered service - I can't be bothered with keeping up with how many of you took the public bus instead of the train or how your conversation went with the hot dog vendor. In 140 words or less: JACK don't like no twitter.